Pray for Us Sinners
by Phosphorescent
Summary: "You had to undress Booth… for the sake of science," Angela repeats straight-facedly. Her eyes, however, betray her unholy glee.


_Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine. Also, don't look for anything resembling substance in this little fic; it's pure Christmas-in-July cotton candy. At least my other Goop on the Girl fic (The Misunderstanding in the Medical Term) _pretended_ to have some depth._

_A/N: OK, so not even Brennan is this naïve. She's a fully-grown, sexually active woman. She may not be the best with social cues, but I'm pretty sure she knew what was going on in Booth's head when he started his recitation of saints in The Goop on the Girl. With that said, this fic insisted on being written. Just think of the Brennan in it as an AU Brennan who's even more clueless than the canon one. ;-)_

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><p>"Angela?" Brennan asks out of the blue. "Why would a man start reciting saints out loud?"<p>

Angela blinks at the non sequitur.

"Well, sweetie, it would depend on both the situation and the man. Anything you want to tell me about a certain Agent Hottie?" She waggles her eyebrows.

Brennan stares at her perplexedly.

"How did you know I was talking about Booth?" she asks.

Angela sighs. "Because it's always about Booth," she murmurs under her breath.

Apparently not quietly enough, however, because Brennan frowns and says, "I don't know what that's supposed to mean. My work in Modular Skeletal Storage, for example, has nothing to do with Booth."

Angela longs to say 'It means that you're head over heels for the man', but restrains herself. If she pushes Brennan too hard, she'll never get to hear the (undoubtedly amusing) story behind her question. So instead Angela says (rather patiently, she thinks), "It doesn't matter. C'mon, Bren, spill."

Seeing her friend open her mouth, Angela heads her off by saying, "It's a colloquialism for 'give me all the details'."

"Interesting," Brennan comments thoughtfully. "Although highly illogical. I fail to see –"

"Brennan!" Angela groans, goaded almost beyond endurance.

"Fine," Brennan sniffs. "Do you remember when Booth got covered with spinous process and particulates from the Santa bomber?"

Angela smirks. Now she _knows_ this is going to be good.

"Do I remember?" she scoffs. "It's not every day you see a piece of eye candy like that rolled out on an examination table."

Brennan… _blushes_? Oh yeah, this is gonna be awesome.

"Yes, well," she prevaricates, "as you know, I fully adhere to proper procedure when it comes to dealing with evidence."

Angela nods. _Dead_ people know how picky Brennan is when it comes to her precious evidence. Pun fully intended.

"Since Booth _was_ evidence, he obviously could not remove his clothing himself," Brennan says matter-of-factly. "It would have posed too high a risk for contamination."

Angela's eyes widen. Is this going where she thinks it's going? She bites back a squeal.

"Obviously," she responds deadpan.

"Therefore, it was necessary for me to collect the evidence personally," Brennan finishes.

"You mean you had to undress Booth… for the sake of science, of course," Angela says, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"That is correct," Brennan states.

"So where did the reciting saints bit come in?" Angela asks.

"When I was removing his pants," Brennan says, as though it's no big deal.

"Ah," Angela says in sudden comprehension. She tries (and fails) to conceal her glee.

"'Ah' what?" Brennan asks impatiently.

"Well that makes it a lot clearer," Angela says, grinning.

"It would help if _you_ were clearer," Brennan mutters rebelliously.

"Sweetie," Angela says, "You weren't by any chance kneeling in front of him, were you?"

"Yes," Brennan says, puzzled.

"What do you typically do when you are in that position, removing an attractive man's pants?"

Brennan frowns slightly. "I am preparing to orally stimulate him."

Obviously she doesn't get it yet.

"Right," Angela praises her. "Now Booth's a guy. If I had to bet, I'd say he was trying to keep from getting too… excited."

Brennan furrows her brow in thought, then, "Ah! You believe that he was sexually aroused by my actions."

"Got it one," Angela says.

"But that's irrational," she protests.

"How is that irrational?" Angela asks disbelievingly. "The two of you were in an incredibly suggestive position, and Booth's a healthy adult man. It would be irrational if he _wasn't_ aroused."

"I don't mean his arousal," Brennan scoffs, waving that aside with one hand. "I mean, why would he try to hide it? As you said, it's a perfectly natural biological reaction; I'd hardly be offended. And while his mythological belief system promotes prudish behavior, we're _friends_. He should feel comfortable with me."

"Maybe, sweetie," Angela says. "Or maybe that's _why_ he wanted to hide it."

"I do not understand your thought process," Brennan says, shaking her head.

"And I don't understand yours," Angela says with a sigh.

'Cause honestly, if she were Brennan, she'd've jumped Booth _years_ ago.


End file.
